


Meet the Weasleys

by hslades, JessiRomantic



Series: The Impala Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Meet the Family, Quidditch, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hslades/pseuds/hslades, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessiRomantic/pseuds/JessiRomantic
Summary: After years away in muggle society Hermione finally returns to the magical world when Ginny plays a Quidditch game over in America. But how would she ever explain Quidditch to her Muggle husband and how would her chosen family react to her Muggle husband. But the biggest question of all how would he react to them?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester
Series: The Impala Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199141
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77
Collections: Make it... Quidditch!





	Meet the Weasleys

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the second story I started writing for my own Flash Fic challenge. However, I roped Jessi into it because she is a crossover queeeeeen. There's a story about how Dean and Hermione met and got together, however it's still in my drafts...

“You don’t even like to go into wizarding America. Why do we need to go to this thing?” Dean said petulantly, his hands squeezing the steering wheel more firmly for a split second.

“I’m already letting you drive to Syracuse and not Apparating us there,” Hermione looked over at him before returning to the book she was reading. “And Ginny is over in the States, it’s been ages and I want to see her.” She said resolutely.

“The Ministry is in New York isn’t it?” Dean said after a while. “Why is the stadium all the way out in Syracuse?”

“Isn’t the stadium the Jets and Giants play in out of state?” Hermione countered.

“It’s still closer to New York City than Syracuse.” Dean defended.

“Well, we wizard kind can travel across the country within the blink of an eye so it’s extremely close, even to the bunker.”

“Then why are we not going by Apparition?” Dean asked.

“Do you remember what happened when I took you to Jody’s that one time?” Hermione grimaced, remembering the sight of the contents of Dean’s stomach on the pavement. That night had been the only time she had known for him to refuse food. “And you do love a good road trip.”

“That’s true,” Dean conceded, eyes firmly on the road ahead. “Can you explain the rules to me so I at least know what the hell is going on?”

“Well, I have never really paid attention, to be honest.”

Dean started laughing, “Oh this is going to be fun.”

“Hey, stop it, I’ll do my best to explain the rules.” Hermione shifted in her seat. “There are seven players on each team and three different balls.”

“Fuck, I’m already confused,” Dean quipped.

Ignoring him, Hermione rattled off the rules in the simplest terms she could. “The Quaffle is the only ball that hasn’t been enchanted and is the easiest part of the game to understand. The aim is for the three chasers to get the Quaffle past the keeper and through one of the three hoops. A goal is worth ten points.”

Dean nodded, "Okay, got it. Players try to get the ball past the keeper. Just like hockey." 

“Then there are two bludgers, which are basically balls charmed to hit people, these balls are directed by two beaters who protect their own players and try to get the opposing players off their game,” Hermione glanced over to see that Dean’s face was a mix of horror and fascination, but his eyes had still not left the road. “Then you’ve got the snitch, a tiny golden ball that flies around and is hard to catch. When you catch it you get 150 points and the game is over. The player that does that is the seeker.”

Dean stared off in the distance, seemingly at a loss of words.

“Damn, that’s a lot. I thought you said you didn’t really pay attention.”

“I didn’t, I swear, I just read the rules in a book.”

“Of course you did,” Dean laughed and turned his focus back on the road ahead. “It’s still very confusing, but I’ll know to look for the redhead flying around if I get bored.”

“It’s more entertaining than those football matches you put on the telly on Sunday.”

“I’m sure it is,” Dean rolled his eyes before they returned to the road in front of him.

Around the Impala, the landscape passed by quickly. Hermione had adjusted long ago to Dean’s obsession with driving everywhere and had started to find a strange sort of comfort in the consistent patchwork of green fields that rolled by the window. She had insisted that they allowed time to stop somewhere around the Illinois-Indiana border. After a stay in a seedy motel off the highway, the miles left to Syracuse seemed to vanish. Once they reached the outskirts of the town they abandoned the car and continued their trip on foot.

“Why can’t I just park at the stadium?” Dean lamented, caressing the bonnet of the car in farewell, before walking towards Hermione.

“You’re a Muggle, it’s hard enough to get permits to get you in, let alone let your car in too,” Hermione said.

“Can’t you pull that War heroine card?”

“I’ve already done that… for you,” Hermione said, walking off in the direction of a small bush.

“I thought we didn’t have to apparate?” He asked when he only found a clearing behind the small bush.

“We have to portkey in, it’s on the outskirts of town and heavily warded against... well, against muggles. If I bring you close to the wards you will think of a pressing case in bloody New Mexico that needs your immediate attention.” She urged him to stand closer to her. “Come on, hold on to me.”

Dean sceptically looked at the empty beer bottle in front of them. Never one to miss an opportunity to fondle his wife, however, he held her tightly. His expression changed from a lecherous grin into one of utter shock when Hermione felt the familiar pull of the portkey in her core.

“Can we just Apparate in next time?” Dean asked, looking miserable. His arms were gripping her waist firmly and his tall frame was leaning on her petite stature to steady himself. She looked up at his face and noticed that his skin had paled slightly, making the freckles on his nose stand out.

Hermione laughed wholeheartedly until she spotted the staff member suspiciously eyeing them.

She barged over to the wizard, dragging a drowsy Dean after her.

“Hermione Granger and a plus one.” She promptly stated.

“Wands for identification.” The stoic wizard stated.

Hermione reluctantly pulled her wand out of the hidden holster against her forearm. “Here’s mine, I don’t see why you need to see my partner’s, his name isn’t even on the list.” She said defensively.

“I’d still like to check if he isn’t on the list of wizards that the Ministry needs to have a chat with.”

Hermione bit back a retort about a famous war heroine being  _ just _ the type to consort with criminals. She really didn’t want to explain the situation to the first wizard she came across. She had secretly been hoping she could just waltz Dean into the stadium.

“He isn’t on your lists. He’s a Muggle. A No-Maj.” She quickly corrected herself when the wizard looked at her like she was speaking French. “But I’ve got a permit from MACUSA, the British Ministry and the International Quidditch Association.”

Hermione pulled the documents from her bag. She reached for Dean’s hand beside her before he locked their fingers together. His posture was rigid and he watched the wizard as he thoroughly read the documents. Dean pulled her slightly closer, resting his large warm hand over her hip, one calloused thumb gently stroking a spot above the waistband of her jeans. The touch was a subtle reassurance that he knew she had gone above and beyond to be sure the day would go off without a hitch. He was not one for public displays of affection, but the simple caress was enough to calm her nerves.

“Seems legit,” The wizard mumbled as he handed the papers back. “Enjoy your first Quidditch game.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Dean answered, as they passed the wizard and went onto the entrance gates.

Hermione had not been to a Quidditch match since leaving Hogwarts. Compared with the Quidditch Pitch where House Cups were played for, the permanent home of the US National Team was gargantuan. The stadium dwarfed the temporary Quidditch grounds that had been purpose-built for the World Cup in 1994. She was astonished that they were able to hide the enormous building from Muggles at all as the atmosphere around it buzzed with magical electricity. She felt Dean shudder next to her, indicating that he had felt it too.

The tickets that Ginny had provided were for one of the boxes at the top of the stadium and by the time they arrived at the box, even Dean looked exhausted from the climb. The view across the pitch was stunning, though, and she grinned at getting one of the best seats in the house. Dean would never forget this. 

When they entered she was surprised to see the entire Weasley family and Harry had beat them there. Harry and Ron were at the edge of the box, noses to the glass, like schoolboys at a sweet shop, taking in the crowds and stadium. Pansy, the simple wedding band that Ron had placed on her finger six months before glittering in the midday sun, was pouring herself a glass of wine at the bar while nodding absently at a story that Arthur was telling her about a cursed plant pot. 

“Hermione, it’s so good to see you again.” Mrs Weasley said as she rushed from her place beside her husband and enveloped her in a hug. “And you must be Dean.” She said as she released Hermione and swiftly enveloped Dean in a hug.

The look on Dean’s face was priceless, he stood there stiff as a board, eyes rapidly scanning the box for possible exits.

“Hello, Molly,” Hermione smirked. The tension radiating off Dean eased fractionally, Hermione had mentioned the Weasley matriarch in passing a few times. She conveniently forgot to mention that Molly was a hugger. Dean’s eyes narrowed at his wife.

“Er… Hi.” Dean awkwardly greeted her before fleeing to the relative safety of Ron and Harry over in the corner.

“Excuse him, he’s still not quite used to all this. I don’t use a lot of magic anymore.” Hermione tried to explain before hurrying over to Dean to rescue him from Arthur doing anything more than introducing himself.

“Hello Arthur,” Hermione greeted sweetly just in time to cut the Weasley patriarch off before he fired off his customary barrage of questions.

“Oh, is that a water pistol?” Arthur asked, pointing at Dean’s waistband. His shirt had lifted slightly to reveal the butt of a gun.

“You brought a gun?” Hermione hissed, incredulously.

“Can I see it?” Arthur beamed at Dean, who was confused why the red-haired man would find it so fascinating. When Hermione made no indication that handing the weapon to Arthur was in any way inadvisable, he shrugged and pulled the gun from its holster.

“Sure,” he said, placing it in the flat of his palm.

Before Arthur could grasp the gun, however, Harry appeared suddenly between the two men and snatched it from Dean’s hand. “WOAH!” he yelled. “Watch it. The safety is off Dean.”

“Oh, I forgot about that.”

“You… forgot about that?” Harry looked at him unbelievingly.

“What’s the safety?” Arthur asked, still looking intrigued by the gun in Harry’s hand.

“When the safety is off a gun it’s basically a wand on the verge of casting an Avada,” Hermione explained, blood boiling. She was so used to being around Dean and his lifestyle that she forgot sometimes how reckless he was.

“Next time you give Arthur something muggle please make sure it’s safe,” Hermione growled.

“So, what’s in here?” Arthur asked.

“Witch killing bullets.” Dean simply stated.

“Witch killing bullets?” Arthur stammered.

“Don’t worry I haven’t tested them on natural wizards or witches, yet,” Dean said.

“But on other… witches?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

“Work like a charm,” Dean smirked.

“So, Dean isn’t really a run of the mill Muggle,” Harry tried to explain.

“I’m going to go and see if Molly needs a hand with anything…” Arthur said, retreating to the safety of his wife.

“Come on guys, get your beers quickly, before the game starts,” Ron yelled. 

“I’ll explain the rules, Dean,” Harry said, before indicating to the bar. “Fancy a drink?”

“Hermione tried to explain the rules on the car ride over but, damn, there are three sorts of balls and they’ve all got different gameplay? Sounds like the kinda rules that need a little hunter’s helper.” Dean said moving with Harry to the bar. 

Hermione took one of the empty seats with a sigh. She was glad her husband was able to be swept up in her best friends’ sports-crazed world. The ease at which he was able to blend in with them was reassuring to her. She glanced down at the gold band on her left hand and started to turn it absentmindedly. Hermione was not left to her thoughts long as she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

“You married a Muggle,” Pansy drawled. The elegant woman handed Hermione a glass of crisp, chilled white wine before taking a sip from her own glass.

“You married a Weasley,” Hermione countered, a smirk playing at her lips, without looking over at the other witch. It was one of the more surprising developments after Hermione and Ron split up. The ex-Slytherin had stumbled into Ron’s life, quite literally, when he had helped her home from the Leaky Cauldron one evening. 

“Touche,” Pansy conceded.

“How’s life in Britain?” Hermione asked, finally looking away from her wedding ring and over at Pansy next to her. The woman beside her never failed to look the epitome of elegance. Her sleek black bob was pinned behind her ear, nails perfectly manicured, and her dark jeans and simple white t-shirt effortlessly sophisticated. “Ron does tell me  _ some _ things, but I do know he isn’t always telling the whole story.”

“It’s going well,” Pansy replied, staring off at the empty pitch. “The press was horrible for a while, but it all has died down a bit more now.” The pinched look on the dark-haired witch’s face told Hermione that the press was more than ‘horrible’. She could not help but feel for the couple. She had glanced at a few of the Wizarding newspapers in America just after they had married and seen how vicious the articles were overseas. “How’s Kansas?” Pansy asked, her face changing to one of curiosity. “Ron does not tell me much, I think he still thinks I hate you.” 

“To be honest, we aren’t in Kansas that often, but I guess it’s home.”

“But you’re happy?” Pansy asked genuinely.

Hermione looked over to where Dean and Harry were now animatedly talking over their bottles of beer. “Whenever I’m with him I’m happy. But I’d love to see the boys more often.”

“They miss you too. They’re just not good at telling you. And Molly didn’t stop complaining about your secret wedding. I think you might be cornered today.” Pansy said apologetically.

“You’ve seen how jumpy Dean is around wizards. All his loved ones are also in the life. And the friendliness of the Weasleys would’ve gone down wrong. My wedding could’ve been a bloodbath…”

“Molly did mother me more than my own mother on my wedding day,” Pansy said pensively. “But I do think you should have a conversation with her. She sees you as one of her children and only wants the best for you.” 

Hermione knew that Pansy was right. Molly had adopted her as one of her own when they were teens, and one of the greatest reliefs after she and Ron had split was that Molly still wanted her around. Molly had been the first person Hermione had talked to about moving to the States all those years ago. That the Weasley matriarch was not even invited to the wedding must have stung.

“Oh god,” Hermione sighed. “Why did I come here again? And why did I bring Dean?” She added as she looked over at her husband still in an animated conversation with Harry. She smiled in spite of herself.

“Because you want them all to be a part of your life,” Pansy smirked knowingly, following Hermione’s gaze. “You just need to bite the bullet and get that conversation with Molly over with,” she said. “Preferably before the start of the game,” she added, before sipping her wine.

“Can I stay for a little bit longer and consume some more liquid courage?” Hermione pleaded, raising her wine glass to show it was still half full.

Pansy tilted her head in acceptance. “You can’t let elf wine like that go to waste, I brought it here especially.”

Once she had taken her last sip, Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Standing, she walked over to Arthur and Molly.  _ You can do it, it’s only Molly.  _

“Arthur, would you mind if I steal Molly for a moment.” 

“Of course, dear. I’ll just check if that man of yours has already gotten the gist of the game before it starts.” He said before walking over to where Harry and Dean were sitting.

“So, I wanted to apologize for only inviting Ron, Harry and Ginny to the wedding.” Hermione started.

“It’s nothing, dear.” Molly waved her off, though Hermione was sure that there was a shine to the older woman’s eyes. “I understand. The children explained everything to me,” she assured. “He makes you happy. Your wedding should be as stress-free as possible,” Hermione thought she heard a hitch in the red-haired witch’s voice, knowing that part of the implication was that she would have made the day more stressful. “Of course I would’ve wanted to be there. We all would have loved to be there on your special day. But that’s not the most important thing,” Molly said before taking a deep breath, a look in her eye that Hermione had never seen before. “The most important thing is that you had the best day of your life. Did you?”

Hermione couldn’t help but glance over to her husband. “Yes, it was magical.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“I did have an idea, though. Would the Burrow be free for an anniversary celebration next summer?” Hermione asked.

As soon as the question left her lips Molly’s eyes lit up, all traces of her earlier sadness completely evaporated. “Of course!” she exclaimed, ecstatically. “You can bring as many of your American friends and family as you want to, they’re all welcome in our home. And we could also invite some of your old school friends.”

“I’ll have to run it over with Dean and ask the others, but I am sure they would love that.” Hermione beamed at the idea of her worlds finally colliding again.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, WITCHES, WIZARDS, WARLOCKS AND HAGS!” a booming voice yelled suddenly throughout the stadium. “PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS AND GET READY TO WELCOME YOUR PLAYERS!”

Every set of eyes snapped over to the pitch in time to watch fourteen players speed through the archway at the bottom of the stadium. There was a mad shuffle for those who did not have a place to sit to grab the best seats.

“Hey, babe,” Dean waved at her, “come over here.” he gestured to the empty seat next to him.

Hermione slid into the seat just in time for the anthems. Dean’s arm casually draped across the back of her chair. He lightly brushed the curve of her neck with his thumb as she leaned her body into his slightly. As soon as the first trumpeting note of Star Spangled Banner rang out, Dean sat straighter in his seat. Hermione smiled around her wine glass as he proudly sang along with the American national anthem. He had a gorgeous singing voice and she was not unfamiliar with him belting out Led Zeppelin in the car on long drives, but he rarely performed outside of the Impala. When the song came to an end, all the other occupants of the box gave him a round of applause. When he realised that he had garnered an audience, he grimaced, embarrassed. Hermione beamed and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

When ‘God Save the Queen’ came on, Ron sang along, his voice sounding like a cat dying while being swung by its tail. Smoothly, he sent a covert wink in her direction halfway through. She grinned back, understanding his intention. At least now, Dean wasn’t the only person who had sung along to the anthem, and he definitely was the best singer out of the two.

Hermione was surprised at how much of the match she was able to watch. She had expected to spend most of her time explaining the game and the magic that made it possible to Dean. However, it seemed that not only had Harry sufficiently explained the rules but somehow ensured that his enthusiasm for Quidditch was transferred too. He seemed to have tapped into some kind of primal masculine tendency to enthuse about sport. It was a side of Dean that Hermione had only ever seen when he was talking about killing vampires.

“Ginny should’ve really passed that ball to Rogers instead,” Dean commented when one of the Eagles chasers’ intercepted Ginny’s pass to Applebee. 

“When did you become such an expert?” she teased.

“Harry explained it.” Dean shrugged.

“But I explained it to you in the car and you just looked at me like I’d grown a second head.” Hermione pouted, feeling useless for being unable to describe the game in terms her husband could understand.

“He brought out a whole miniature set to illustrate all the rules,” Dean clarified, “you are still better at explaining things.” He assured her, squeezing her a bit closer. 

“Good.” She melted back into his side and absentmindedly followed the rest of the match, while Dean continued to have very in-depth discussions about the game with Ron and Harry.

In the end, England won and Ginny was smiling from ear to ear when she walked into the box to greet them all. 

“It’s so good to see you again, Hermione, Dean.” She greeted them both with a hug. Dean only hesitantly hugged her back.

“I think I’ve officially lost him to Quidditch, Gin.” 

“Welcome to the dark side, Dean!” Ginny smirked.

“Will never beat ganking a demon,” he defended.

After a couple more drinks, Hermione had to pull Dean away from a conversation he was having with Ron about the efficiency of a machete when killing a Leviathan.

“We need to get going if we’re going to be back in Kansas before tomorrow night,” she said. Dean nodded and went to find Ginny to congratulate her on a game well played.

“Don’t be a stranger, now, young lady,” said Molly as she engulfed Hermione in a hug.

“I won’t,” Hermione assured.

“You look after her, you understand?” Molly scolded Dean before pulling him into an embrace. “And next time I see you, I’m feeding you both. You’re much too skinny.”

Once they were finally in the trusty Impala, Hermione took comfort in the roar of the engine and soft sound of the piano in Pink Floyd’s  _ Great Gig in the Sky _ . She stared out at the dark sky stretched above them, reflecting quietly on the day. 

“So, I might’ve promised to Molly that we will come over in the summer and have a sort of second wedding there,” Hermione said, not daring to look at her husband.

“You said we’d go to the UK?” He asked, surprised.

“She was quite upset I didn’t invite her to the wedding, and I do kind of want to see all of them for an extended period of time.” Hermione rambled on. “And Molly said all our family and friends from over here are more than welcome and-”

“We can go to the UK in the summer,” he paused. “Well unless the world goes to shit again.” 

“You’ll go on a plane? For over ten hours?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“For you, I’d do anything.” He said. “But can we really not do some magicy stuff to get over there?” 

“The Ministry will have my wand if I take a Muggle with me in transatlantic magical travel.”

“The things I’d do for you.” Dean sighed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please tell us what you think of the story.  
> And a Merry Christmas, may 2021 be less of a sh*tshow.


End file.
